Sisters
by Cecelia S. Bradley
Summary: Before the Cahill family breakup, even before Katherine became Thomas's friend and Jane Luke's, the girls were sisters-and friends. For the rest of their life, they will wish it had stayed that way.


**Note to Readers: Yes, I know that it is camEra, not camAra, but maybe the word changed over time. Maybe it was camAra at a time. And maybe Katherine did have a hand in the invention. Jane is not best friends with Luke yet. 'Shah" is an older word for "hush." An oval-ball is my early version of a football. This will be my first multi-chapter story (yes, I know it only has one chapter so far, but….), and I hope it goes well.**

**I DO NOT OWN THE 39 CLUES! But wouldn't that be a dream come true? Many thanks to my beta, ABetterNinjaThanDanCahill. This was the first time I used a beta, and she has been a blessing to me.**

_**Katherine: Twelve Years Old**_

I look across the table at my sister and my brothers. What an assortment we are! I had come to dinner after inventing a new device called a camara. It was a device that took pictures after you held a little button down for a few seconds, then you had that memory to keep. Forever. But I had gotten my idea for the camara from Jane, who had wanted to save what she had painted in the grass before the rain took it away, and Luke had suggested that I use a button to trigger the device instead of the key I had originally planned to use, pointing out that a key was easy to lose, and what good was a camara if you could not take pictures? (To be honest, Thomas did not help at all. In fact, he accidentally stepped on and crushed my first attempt at a camara, which did not necessarily make me happy with him. He is a nice brother, though, and he's steering far away from my camara for some reason, so both he and it are same. It from destruction, he from my wrath.)

Sometimes, the differences in our characters, especially since we sampled Father's potion, are problems. Actually, most of the time. Half of my life is spent locking Luke in closets, or running away from Thomas after accidentally and maliciously destroying his oval-balls. (Do not ask how I can accidentally _and _maliciously destroy an oval-ball. DO. NOT.) However, sometimes, we find the edges of our puzzle-piece minds that match, and put them together. Then, I pity any of you who are only children.

My reflections are interrupted by a crash, and I look up to see Thomas pinning7-year old Jane's wrist to the oaken table. Luke is chuckling to himself in the corner. "Kathie! Make him stop! He's hurting me!" Jane whimpers. She iss the only person that could pull the nickname off. "Thomas! What possessed you to do that? To little Jane, too!" Mother somehow managed to pull Thomas's brawny hand off of the tiny, fair one underneath. "Luke did," Thomas mutters. Luke stopps laughing and glared at Thomas. "Luke," Jane spat out the name, "decided that we would have an arm-wrestling match, boys against girls, to figure out who would do the dishes. Of course, Thomas represented the boys and, because Kathie wouldn't wake up, I had to. Meanie old Luke planned it that way, and now my wrist hurts. How will I practice the lyre tonight?"

"Luke! Shame, child. Why would you—"

"You won't need to practice, tonight, Janey Painy. You'll be doing dishes with Socrates!" Luke bounces out of the room, fleeing from Mother's inquiries and my fury-led feet. That dreadful boy! Socrates! Me, Socrates!

After successfully locking my brother in the bathroom closet and hiding the key underneath the roots of a carrot in our garden (It probably won't ever grow now. Oops!), I return to the kitchen to help my little sister. She has already washed all the silverware, leaving the plates and cups for me.

"Don't worry, Jane. I locked Luke in a closet. He won't bother you anytime soon. How is your wrist?" I ask her.

"Fine. It's just a little sore. But, Kathie, why did you do that? He'll be really mad, and I don't want you guys to fight again."

Jane was the only one who dared call me Kathie, but with her, I sort of liked it. But I was completely shocked by her response. "But, but Jane! He called you Janey Painy, and he called me Socrates! And he made Thomas hurt you! He deserved it!"

"I suppose we all do, then." I was still puzzling over her comment, but she abruptly changed the subject. "Well, I suppose I'm going to go paint the sunset now. Bye, Kathie!" And Jane skipped out the door.

Now, I wasn't as smart as Luke in figuring people up, but Jane was pretty conspicuous and I knew she was up to something. I watched as she trotted outside into the garden, only stopping for a second before going right up to the key-carrot, picking it up, and running back inside, not bothering to fix the carrot in its original location. I couldn't have stopped her if I tried, so I put in my supersonic hearing aid and listened to the conversation in the bathroom.

"_Luke! Luke! Where are you? _**Here, but don't bother me. And hire somebody to punch Katherine. **_Lukey, I have the key. I can get you out…here you go." _Then I hear a slap, and Jane starts crying. "**Now maybe you know pain. Leave me alone!" **And Luke just ran away. I can't believe my sweet, loving sister Jane and my scheming, conniving, bullying brother Luke are even related. I run to Jane, who's huddled in the bathtub.

"Why did he hit me, Kathie? What did I do?"

"Luke was mad at me, and he took it out on you. Why did you let him out?"

"I thought he might get hurt, or he might not be able to breathe, or you would forget him like you always do or-" That's true, I always do forget him. Not necessarily on accident, though…."or he might get hungry or need to use the restroom or-"

"Shah, child. You worry too much. But how did you find the key so quickly?"

Jane brightens. "Oh, that was simple. I watched you go outside, so I went out there to check first. And one of the carrots was a little higher in the ground than the others, soI lifted it up, and there was the key!" Of course Jane would notice that. I'll have to be more careful in the future.

A couple of hours later, after tucking Jane in bed because Mother was too busy, I watch her sleep peacefully. She is hugging her wolf stupped with goose feathers that Mother sewed for her, and laying peacefully with a smile on her face. I can't resist. I go up to the bed and hug her tightly. She cracks open one eye, then hugs me back, only the little wolf between us.


End file.
